


Obsession is a Sickness (of the mind (until you pass (it) on))

by ranthimi



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Brief Mentions of Vore, Jealousy Kink, Lovers to Enemies to Cold-Blooded Murder, M/M, Medical Kink, Not Canon Compliant, Paranoia, Plot-relevant mentions of Grimmjow, Poor Communication and Worse Relationship Decisions, Role Reversal, Sex Pollen Gone Wrong, Whump, Xenobiology (Hollows have black blood), also i refuse to accept the spelling/spacing in the official tags, also there's no real fucking sorry, everybody hates tesla i’m sorry to people who like him, forced drugging, however there is implied fucking, i'm also sorry to everyone who read my other fic and expected something else, i'm not ready to write Real Smut for public consumption yet, i've taken very large liberties with canon mechanics because let's be real, it's what starts all this fuckery, kind of, nnoi is not going to pull some anime bullshit every time he needs more arms, not typical "i'm going to kill your other potential boyfriend" yandere but i might as well add it, please don't misunderstand i love these two more than you know, that's why i have to fuck them up, there's already too much plot and not enough action, things in bleach are way too complicated for their own good, this is a paranoid mad scientist going off the deep end, yandere!Szayel, you can interpret some of the last scenes as weird monster sex if you want to as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranthimi/pseuds/ranthimi
Summary: Szayel's mounting fears of losing Nnoitora to another partner are eating away at his thoughts, especially after he finds out his mate has been on semi-friendly terms with another Espada. The only solution in his mind is to eliminate the competition by ensuring his superiority in the most convoluted way possible (through science, of course), and things go wrong much faster than anyone could have anticipated.Also for the love of the gods this is a work of fiction, please don't try this shit at home. Szayel and Nnoitora are both really bad role models.





	Obsession is a Sickness (of the mind (until you pass (it) on))

It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret that pure strength and ability was often what got one ahead in this world. He saw it around him every day, lesser beasts fighting and killing and eating one another to grow in power and eventually consciousness, and occasionally saw it in those he had been forced to ally himself with. Most attributed Szayel’s success to luck and nothing more, seeing it as impossible that someone could survive on pure _intellect_ alone. He knew better than to chalk it up to something as absurd as luck, as did select others, but his reputation of being an outlier--an anomaly--still ate away at the edges of his mind whenever it came to his attention.

As the lone researcher and self-proclaimed expert on spiritual energy and technology in Las Noches, he was a man of science and proudly embraced the one thing that made him different from the others. It made him better than the others, in his mind, in fact the only thing stopping him from rising above his current rank was the keen awareness that anyone and everyone would seek to take him out if he did so. Hollows didn’t just organize themselves alongside other powerful individuals the way the Espada had been forced to, since normally everything was a struggle to stay on top and push forward… very literally eat or be eaten.

Despite those solitary and competitive tendencies, Hollows were ultimately creatures of instinct, and at some point in the life of most creatures a mate and a companion would be sought, even if just for awhile. Szayel would never openly admit to such a thing, but that sort of isolation did get to him at times. It was often for selfish reasons, certainly, having someone to discuss ideas with or to ensure his safety or to simply feel like his brilliance wasn’t being constantly overlooked would be a pleasant change of pace. Occasionally, though, he could admit that he simply wanted someone else with him. Working alone could get very boring very quickly, he told himself, but the truth was he very much wanted a companion and someone to confide in.

While his overall success certainly wasn’t dumb luck, it was harder to keep that same mindset in other arenas: he found that companionship and partnership in another outlier, something that exceeded his expectations, and for once he felt something akin to safety in their shared difference. Though he wasn’t privy to the exact details of how an Arrancar became an Espada, he had been given enough side jobs to know that the process could occasionally produce unexpected results, one of those results being the lower-than-anticipated combat performance of the current Quinto Espada, Nnoitora. Szayel had been informed that his superior’s abilities _should_ have been far greater for someone of his rank, that if anything could be done to amend this issue scientifically and medically, it needed to be done. For the good of the organization, of course, as was always the reason given.

That much was easy. Modifying biology was second nature to him by now, be it his own or that of others, and he wasn’t exactly going to pass up an easy chance to tinker with the inner workings of another Espada without drawing unwanted attention from the higher-ups. He swore to himself he wouldn’t get attached, a project was a project, but that was hard when he first saw potential for a bodyguard and then a partner in the subject of his observations and attention. They were both societal outcasts, for one, Szayel simply not fitting into the established norms by way of existence and Nnoitora by choice of non-interaction and a sort of self-imposed exile. It was all pointless, he had said, so why waste your time working for an organization when you can be wandering the desert and hunting? A shared distaste for the way things operated and how one was expected to behave and interact grew into more than that over time, and before either of them knew it they were fighting--not out of anger or hatred, but out of mutual courtship and a desire to impress the other, to prove themselves worthy partners. Despite the frustration of cultural context, a Hollow is driven first and foremost by instinct, no matter their stage of evolution and growth.

This fact is what first started sowing doubt in the scientist’s mind. It was small, easy to dismiss at first, something to file away in the mental cabinet of “I’ll deal with this if or when it becomes necessary” as most small worries were for him. Instinct had led him and his mate to seek closer companionship, after all, rather than hating each other for their differences. Soon, though, this line of thinking gave way to a whole host of different (and far more troubling) outcomes and possibilities. Now that Nnoitora had one close companionship, it was entirely likely that he may have begun to change his mind on interacting with others as a whole. Instinct would still win out in the end, as it always did, and sooner or later it would be entirely possible that one of those other potential companionships would prove superior to the company Szayel could provide. Assessing the situation at hand was vital before it got out of his ability to control, after all, taking steps to verify and test a hypothesis was unbelievably basic and the suspicion had been gnawing at his consciousness for weeks now. It was time to dig deeper for evidence before plotting a course of action.

“May I talk to you for a moment?” he asked his mate, setting the report he had only been half-reading down on one of the desks in the “office” section of the lab.

“Sure, what the hell do you want?” The Quinto barely looked up from lazily picking sand from under his claws, but Szayel still took it as an acknowledgement. He brushed a few strands of pink hair off his mask fragment before taking a deep breath to continue.

“I don’t suppose you’ve been… making new acquaintances as of late?”

“Eh, if you really want to count Grimmjow at this point, I guess you can. Don’t talk to him much but I guess I don’t hate him as much as everyone else besides you. Why, you supposed to do research on me talking to anyone or something dumb like that? I know Aizen’s got some deal with tracking my progress or some shit but that’s nosy even for him.”

“No, it’s… nothing like that. Simply curious, is all.” _And now that the initial curiosity has been satisfied, and my suspicions of another companionship confirmed, I can keep tabs on this... new friend as well_.

“When the fuck are you _not_ curious about something? The only person who cares more about everyone’s business than Aizen is you, Szayel.”

“Mmm… certainly a fair assessment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go file away this report.”

He snatched up the sheaf of papers and headed briskly out of the room, thoughts spinning with what he took to be confirmation of competition. He figured it was never too soon to consider another Arrancar a threat to his wellbeing and relationship, and the sixth strongest Espada was certainly no laughing matter as an opponent in any sense. He was physically imposing, loud, pushy, and bold enough to walk around with his hole fully exposed, something that was easily read as both “showing off” and “more than a bit crude” simultaneously. Grimmjow was virtually everything Szayel was not, and ranking in as the eighth strongest Espada, he didn’t stand a chance in this fight.

A small, weak Hollow was nobody’s first choice of a mate and he knew this. The only reason he had been able to find one was by pure luck and unusual circumstances anyhow, so every moment from his suspicions of a theoretical competitor he was anticipating Nnoitora’s inevitable betrayal, no matter how that would play out. He figured it would involve Grimmjow and being killed off in a struggle for dominance as was standard for Hollows now that he could put a name and a face to this opponent, but from there he didn’t exactly ruminate on the fine details of how it would occur. He just figured it _would_ occur if he didn’t somehow manage to do something about it and prove himself the superior choice against all odds, or at least keep himself in his partner’s good graces for as long as possible.

There were two problems he determined in the plan for prolonging this fate: one being that “not trying at all” was simply something he didn’t have a concept of when faced with a challenge. The second issue only served to complicate the first: there was absolutely no chance that someone of his rank and specialties could possibly take on the absolute giant that stood a single rank below his mate. Szayel was expressly forbidden from taking any other Espada in for unauthorized experiments, and slowly chipping away at someone’s ability and performance would surely get him noticed in ways he was deeply uncomfortable with if he wasn’t caught for performing unsolicited “medical exams” in the process.

Every other solution he came across while lost in thought pacing about the lab seemed just as improbable or just as likely to result in disaster as the last, but he refused to simply let this go. He dug through past reports and research files for inspiration, scouring the carefully-arranged shelves of bottles and vials filled with various substances in hopes that something would answer the dilemma that had been plaguing him more and more with each passing moment for days on end now. With the problems he had pinpointed, he determined that he couldn’t modify his own strength or ability, he couldn’t target any threat directly, and he certainly wouldn’t dare to sabotage his mate’s strength either.

Non-combat related alterations were the best option to test now, especially anything that would produce unusual or specific effects when administered. The lab’s organizational system allowed him to easily locate anything and everything that would assist him in this matter, a set of options that had been more or less narrowed down to anything that could serve to solidify a claim on territory, specifically another Hollow.

Szayel grabbed five small vials from one of the shelves, a special section he had marked off for something he’d never had the luxury to test personally but had always wanted an excuse to. Affecting another’s mind through the use of the mating response always seemed amusing to him, but before now he had always worried it would end horribly once the effects wore off. He’d need to ensure they didn’t, of course, just to be safe, and keep a strict schedule with whoever would be on the receiving end of this treatment. _Likely not me, my mind has been made up on this matter. It’s simply too dangerous to put the focus entirely on me_.

That narrowed down his options even further, and he returned two of the bottles back to their places on the shelf. Carefully going over the contents and effects of the remaining three solidified the decision as each on their own would not produce the desired effects. One would induce a state similar or identical to that found in Hollows who had recently and successfully courted, increasing aggression and the desire to mark territory. That could have gone in any direction without the other two: one that stimulated the mating impulse and another that increased any pre-existing imprinting (something he had initially intended to use as part of a larger project to encourage pack-bonding in lesser Hollows until Aizen decided to scrap it, much to the scientist’s dismay.)

It was the perfect solution: step in and make up Nnoitora’s mind for him. Or, more accurately, administer chemicals that manipulated his pre-existing thoughts and emotions in favor of staying with Szayel, preventing any future positive interactions with Grimmjow or anyone else for that matter. He’d caught the issue early enough to eliminate it at the source, and now the last piece of the puzzle was figuring out just how to pull such a thing off without being noticed. He’d have thought with so much close contact on such a frequent basis, it’d leave more opportunities to keep a consistent schedule, but he was amazed at just how few subtle ways there were to drug someone.

“What a disaster… all this time spent, I can’t seem to finalize the solutions to all my problems and I actually _do_ have to file this damned report.” He growled slightly under his breath and glared disapprovingly at the file, scanning through it less absentmindedly this time as he set off to store it away, hopefully for good. Time was exceedingly valuable in this particular operation, so the less of it spent on unrelated pursuits the better.

His mate often went hunting on his own, and never seemed to bother bringing back anything for later, so administration via hiding it in food was off the list almost immediately. Building up a tolerance of his own also seemed to be a bad idea, since at least one of the components was something Szayel had been hoping to use on himself for more leisurely pursuits on his own time, meaning administration via direct contact or bodily fluids was also out of the question. Indirect methods were too dangerous, as he couldn’t risk anyone else being exposed, which didn’t leave much left besides direct administration via injection. Doing so consistently? At this rate, impossible. Certainly, the two of them had more medical shenanigans than were entirely unnecessary, but _every day_? That would be too much, even for them.

There wasn’t any feasible way to manufacture a solution that required any sort of daily medical evaluation on Nnoitora’s part, not right now, at least. Projects came infrequently, but an open experimentation schedule that still had enough room for anything Aizen might want done was necessary. The scientist grabbed at stray bits of pink hair nervously, losing track of his place in the report more and more on his way through the lab. Something about progress on modification of lesser Hollows, and the long-term effects of artificially enhancing spiritual power… something else about comparing the process to applying it to an Espada…

That’s when it clicked. That’s what had brought them together in the first place, and it was what would keep them together for an eternity if the Octava had his way. His partner hadn’t originally been as powerful as anyone would have liked, and finding a way to manufacture a drop in performance and skill or some other way to make a long period of enhancements and modifications necessary was perfect. It would give him time to plan longer-term for any other threats down the line as well as give him an excuse to get official clearance from Aizen on a new “project”, leaving his schedule clear unless something more important came up. _Finally, a solution that works for everyone_. He let out a sharp sigh of relief and wordless thanks to finding what he needed in the file as he slipped it into one of the folders on his desk, thinking through what his next move would be from there.

Patience, was, unfortunately often a valuable asset in any experiment. Results took time to become apparent, and sometimes timing simply wasn’t optimal for the conditions needed. One misplaced word could bring the whole thing crashing down, and on an _average_ day Nnoitora’s temper could probably be classified as a force of nature. Attempting to instigate a sensitive conversation such as this would have to wait until after a successful hunt. Much to Szayel’s relief, that seemed to have been the case judging by his mate’s satisfied yet still slightly manic expression and the black stains on his outfit.

“Can I have a word with you?” the scientist asked tentatively after waiting a bit for the rush he knew resulted from such an activity to wear off somewhat, just in case.

“Yeesh, formal as ever, I guess. You need somethin’ from me?” Nnoitora flopped down in the pile of blankets in the middle of the room that served as a “nest” next to his mate, his relatively good mood remaining intact.

“Actually… yes. I have a new assignment and this… this may come as harsh news to you, so I apologize if it upsets you but they’re Lord Aizen’s words, not mine. He’s… not exactly pleased with your combat performance as of late and has requested that I perform some tests to measure both your physical and spiritual strength before deciding how to proceed from there.” Szayel braced himself for any number of harsh words, or potentially worse, recoiling almost imperceptibly.

His partner groaned, clearly not pleased by the news. “You’re shitting me, right? How the hell’s he been keeping track of that? If he wants me to fight someone I’ll head over there and give him a piece of my damn mind!”

“No!” the scientist shouted, almost jumping up to prevent the Quinto from leaving the nest just in case. “No, that won’t be necessary, besides, you’d get yourself hurt if you confronted him directly. I just need you to come with me to the lab so we can get the preliminary tests over and done with.”

“Still doesn’t explain how he knows what I’ve been up to. Eh, he’s probably got some kinda spies out there watching all of us, so I guess that’s not surprising.” He stretched a bit, rolled over in what seemed to be a display of discontent with having to leave the nest so soon after he’d gotten in, but stood up anyhow. “Yeah, I’ll come with you, but he’s got a hell of a lot of explaining to do if I’m doin’ fine with everything.”

 

Szayel felt no remorse in lying to his mate at this point. Ensuring companionship and therefore safety and fulfillment was the singular goal etched into his mind, and nothing would stop him from reaching that. Intentionally altering the input of the machines he had set up to read spiritual energy and physical strength was the easy part of all this, convincing Nnoitora that the reason the readings and his so-called “performance” were lower than expected was a result of his own abilities falling short and escaping any resulting rage was difficult at best. There were some subjects best avoided, he had learned, and potential inferiority was certainly one of them. Hopefully prefacing the entire issue as he did would avert an unnecessary crisis, since Szayel knew his mate would avoid Aizen when at all possible, leaving little to no space to expose his scheme.

“I think you’ll need to hit it a bit harder, I’m still getting unsettlingly low readings. Remember, no holds barred, I can’t accurately gauge your progress and what needs to be done if you simply refuse to give it your all.” He fixed his gaze immediately and intently upon the data readout display in front of him, in hopes of keeping calm while giving the illusion of concern and interest in the results while watching for any glitches or mistakes that might throw off his entire plan.

“What do you fucking think I’m doing, going easy? Do you know how insulting that is?” A loud crack echoed through the small room, causing the scientist to flinch in response.

“Ah, I saw a small spike with that outburst there, perhaps you should do it again,” he replied in encouragement, hoping to defuse any mounting tension as well as his own fears.

“If your damn machine’s faulty and making it look like I’m not as strong as I really am, I’m gonna be using you for target practice next time,” Nnoitora hissed, turning back around and slamming the blade into the target again, almost as if to emphasize the point.

Szayel didn’t want to betray his concern this early on, before he even had a real chance to do anything. “You know I check it daily, even if I don’t use it for anything. I assure you it’s working just fine, you must be the one doing something differently as of late, especially if Aizen’s gotten involved,” the scientist responded without missing a beat, still focused unwaveringly on the display.

“Oh, like what? You guys must think I’m slacking, huh? That had better not be it, because it’s not like I see you in here trying to do anything.”

“I’m not the one who potentially needs a routine for any of this. You know as well as I do that you’re a… special case who needs a close eye. I’d hate for us to have to be separated again for observation, you’ve been doing so wonderfully as far as I’ve seen before this was requested. I can always alter the formula of that strength enhancing serum we use sometimes, if you don’t mind. We could even use it daily, if you’d like.” This was it. The one chance to cover for any differences in behavior or performance that resulted from the plan moving forward. If Nnoitora refused, Szayel would have to start back from the beginning.

“Yeah, sure. Go right the fuck ahead, as long as it keeps people off our backs. I don’t like Aizen sayin’ I’m weak, and then gettin’ you to deliver the news to me of all people. Next time get Tesla to do it or somethin’, I won’t feel too awful if I get pissed and smack him around a bit.” He kicked the practice target a couple times, laughing a bit as he did so. “You get your stupid readings or what? I wanna hurry up and test the new stuff you got for me, probably on that good-for-nothin’ slacker.”

“I haven’t even prepared the formula yet. I’ll have the data analyzed in a couple of hours and I should be able to synthesize something from there.” Part of this was a lie, but since his mate still seemed capable of a joke or two Szayel figured it was best to encourage that to reduce suspicion. “Oh, and while you know I don’t mind if you take out any lingering frustrations on Tesla, please don’t do any _serious_ damage…”

“Ugh. Fine. I won’t kill him or anything stupid like that. Just don’t take too long, got it?”

Szayel nodded in understanding. “Just a few hours. Meet me back here so I don’t have to go searching, and if for whatever reason I’m not quite finished I’ll let you know.”

 

“Yo. I’m here, you still busy finishin’ shit up or are we good to go?”

Szayel nearly dropped the vial of the carefully-measured serum on his desk in surprise, being so lost in his work and his own thoughts to hear the Quinto approaching or even knocking on the door to the lab before barging in. “Don’t burst in here like that, you know I’ve told you I get jumpy when I’m performing delicate procedures,” he huffed, making sure nothing had spilled anywhere.

“Sorry, man, you weren’t responding or anything so I had to let you know I was out here waiting _somehow_.” The overdone sarcasm in his voice was relieving, and in fact revealed a hint of excitement the scientist wasn’t expecting.

“Are you eager to get this over with or are you eager to test out your new capabilities?” Szayel still couldn’t quite relax, and he felt as though he might as well be asking himself the same question.

“I dunno. Both. Still just got the urge to fight things and I don’t wanna sit my ass on an operating table until I’m about ready to pass the fuck out.”

“Ah, one of those moods, then. Hopefully this shouldn’t require much more than another injection but--”

“Yeah, I know, you’re jumpy and all that and don’t want me knockin’ things over again because I don’t like being stabbed multiple times,” Nnoitora wasn’t one to complain much, but this was closer than he had been in awhile.

“Well… yes, but last time you knocked things over _and_ broke two of my syringes because you wouldn’t let your hierro down. Hold still, you’ll be out in a moment. You won’t even feel it this time.” _And I can’t afford to lose another second of your thoughts to Grimmjow. If he imprints even slightly more strongly than I do a lot more could--and will--be broken than a couple syringes._

It wasn’t easy to still the trembling in his hands. Few things brought him more excitement than securing success, and ensuring that the one thing that mattered even more than his research stayed in his possession was enough to send him spiraling again, feeling dizzy and lightheaded as he slipped the needle into pale flesh. The effect was intended to be gradual, yet still intense at first; he couldn’t risk someone potentially finding some way to undo all his hard work before it began.

“You told me I wouldn’t feel that,” his mate said through gritted teeth, preparing to steady himself against the table in the center of the room as the sedatives kicked in.

“Apologies, I must still be a bit shaken over your sudden entrance.” Words were easier to keep steady than hands and thoughts.

“Hah! You’re losin’ your edge, Szayel. Next time Aizen’ll be riding your ass about… performance… or whatever the hell he said ‘bout me.” His words started slurring together as he lost balance, just enough reflexes were left to keep him from falling face-first onto the cold metal surface below him.

“Hm. Well, maybe I’ll ask if he thinks I need an evaluation as well once I bring these reports to him.” Szayel was too busy trying to rein in his thoughts, focusing intently on drawing just the right amount of the serum into another syringe. _Everything has to be perfect._

Nnoitora had already collapsed into an inelegant heap on the operating table as usual, which, while Szayel found it endearing, always added a bit of extra work to his procedures. His mate was much larger and much taller than he was, and while it wasn’t exactly difficult to move him thanks to the enhanced strength every Arrancar had to some extent, it was certainly a hassle he’d rather not deal with. He had heard rumors floating around Las Noches from time to time that Nnoitora was about as infamous and disliked as the scientist himself (he’s a weirdo, you know? Leaving the Espada informally to roam around the desert. I heard the Octava enhanced him because Aizen messed up, so he’s extra-freaky for hanging around Mr. Pink-hair) and it took every effort to not find a way to _accidentally_ off those with loose tongues. For safety, of course, always for the organization.

Szayel was the only one to ever see the Quinto completely helpless. Nnoitora had even given him a hard time about it at first, holding it over his head to never say a word to another being about these things. For all the fears and mental noise he had been dealing with the past several days, there were few things that could ease his mind more than simply admiring his mate at times like this, where nothing would come back to haunt him. His mate was practically everything he himself was not, and he found his fingers running through long black hair almost unintentionally. For someone who talked a big game about being perfection incarnate, sometimes he almost felt bad that he had to keep his greatest project and favorite specimen to himself, as he also felt that a scientist was measured by the beauty and awe of his experiments.

He sighed, halfway to release the stress he’d been holding inside and halfway in pure adoration. _You’ll be mine forever soon, and nobody will ever know how I managed to keep it that way._

The effects of Szayel’s new drug took effect much more quickly than he had anticipated or even hoped. He noticed that over the course of a few days, Nnoitora was getting more… _handsy_ with him, which was almost overwhelming at times if he decided to use all six. It was pleasant, intoxicating even, to have his mate become so very present in his life without even needing to ask. The few times things had gone a bit overboard in the lab while the Octava was attempting to work were very easily overlooked, it was a welcome distraction and reward for all the weeks of mental agony and fretting over whether or not he’d survive another day.

It seemed to be working wonders in all ways, and Nnoitora hadn’t seemed to catch on to why and how he had been feeling the way he did as of late (he chalked it up to how it felt good to be stronger again and push lesser Hollows around before eating them). Szayel never felt lonely anymore, his mate was in unusually and relatively good spirits unless he was hungry or needy in other ways, and there hadn’t been a single mention of Grimmjow or anyone else for that matter since the routine began.

All good things had an end eventually, or at least a short break, and while the stronger of the two Espada was normally aggressive, Szayel wasn’t very used to so much of it being directed at him, even though he knew this was a very normal, and normally very pleasant, side-effect of the new serum.

“Mmm, while I love getting your scent all over me and the nest, I still need to present results to Aizen as promised. If only all this official business wasn’t so mandatory to my ability to experiment as I please,” he mumbled, trying to think of a way to untangle himself from several arms and the rare comfortable position. His mate shot up, claws dangerously close to the Octava’s neck, breathing into his ear almost menacingly.

“Who said you could fucking leave?” he hissed, slowly tightening his grip.

“My deadline, unfortunately,” Szayel replied, almost in a whisper. Nnoitora’s strength and speed was frightening on its own, but the enhancements that had been included to keep suspicions at bay elevated them to another level entirely.

“Don’t waste a single second longer than you gotta away from me. Got it?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He stiffly rubbed up against his partner, weakly attempting to offer reassurance.

“Good. I’ll probably just rest or somethin’ until you get back.” Claws pressed in briefly as a warning before letting go, letting the scientist find his way out of the maze of limbs and nesting materials. Once he was certain Nnoitora wasn’t looking, he shivered a bit before shaking himself off before leaving.

 

The central building where the organizer and veritable king of the Espada spent most of his time was another maze in and of itself. The halls and the need to focus on his destination offered some solace, but the possibility of Aizen being _out_ and what may happen if a visit wasn’t approved weighed heavily on Szayel’s mind through the entire trip.

He took a breath, kneeling and bowing his head before the open doorway of the central chamber. “Lord Aizen, I have a request I’d like to present, if I may be allowed entrance.”

The unsettlingly calm voice of his superior came in response almost immediately after he had finished. “Of course, have a seat and some tea. What, might I ask, is the reason for this visit?”

He placed himself not too close but not so far away he couldn’t hear or be heard. “I’m… in need of a supply raid, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble to organize, sir.” It was enough of a test of will to keep his composure away from his mate, but Aizen’s nearly unreadable demeanor required an extra level of caution.

“A request for a supply raid? My, you’ve certainly been running through what we give you quicker than I’d expect,” he smiled, a subtle tone prompting more detail from the scientist.

“I’ve been taking… personal liberties with the lack of current assignments, sir. I figured that if there was nothing being requested of me, I was free to experiment as I please, so long as my results can be used for the overall benefit of the organization. I did not, however, expect those experiments to be so… draining on my resources. If you accept my request, I have a list of needed supplies, but I need to ensure its contents are kept solely between us and the raid team.” He chose his words carefully, playing to Aizen’s desires as he had learned from watching many others succeed and fail with their own requests. So long as you make it seem useful to more than just you, he learned.

“Mmm, I’m fascinated to hear your findings. Will you be keeping them to yourself until the conclusion of your experiment as usual, Szayelaporro?”

_Full name. Please don’t use my full name._ “Unfortunately, yes, sir. I do have a tendency to get… paranoid about revealing my findings before finishing a project.”

“Your intelligence in invaluable to the Espada, and myself. I have faith in you to not waste my time and generosity. I will grant you this request. Do you happen to have the list on hand?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, unfolding a small slip of paper and sliding it carefully across the table.

“I’ll see to it that this is carried out as soon as possible. You are dismissed, and best of luck to you with your endeavors.” Szayel could hear a tiny hint of… desperation, almost, from his superior, and he made a mental note to let Nnoitora know that Aizen was, in fact, the nosiest person in Las Noches. He’d never lost that unofficial title, but nobody dared mention it in his presence for fear of retaliation.

He bowed once more as he stood up, hastily and obscuring his vision with a mass of pink hair, before righting himself and leaving the room with a small nod. _That could have gone better at the end, but so long as I deliver, I suppose he won’t mind_.

Szayel made his way hastily back across the desert to the sparsely-furnished cave-like dwelling he and his mate called home. He had hoped most of his nervousness had worn off by the time he walked into the entrance after pulling the unusual woven cloth that served as a door away from the entrance, only to be greeted by a rough and passionate embrace from Nnoitora.

His mate winced a bit, pulling back from the greeting with a disgusted look on his face just as quickly as he had pressed himself into the scientist’s personal space. “You were talkin’ to Aizen when you were out. Why didn’t you tell me?” he snarled, locking eye(s) with the Octava and redirecting his back against a solid surface.

“I thought I did, I told you I had official Espada business to attend to. What else could you have possibly assumed from that, Nnoitora?”

He leaned in closer again, two extra sets of arms grabbing at the scientist as he did so, pushing them both closer to the wall. “I’m not so sure you weren’t planning or doing something else with him. It was just you two there, I can smell him all over you and it’s making me fucking sick.”

“I… wasn’t even sitting all that close to him. How can you smell that?” Szayel was genuinely surprised at this amount of perceptiveness, his partner usually didn’t pick up on things like this unless he was very obviously injured or marked in some way.

“What, you really think I’m not just gonna pick up on stuff like that? I might have a hard time with your science bullshit but I’m not stupid, Szayel.”

“I… that’s not really an answer, you know. I don’t believe things work that way, anyhow…” the scientist looked for an escape out of instinct despite his arms being firmly pinned to his sides and his back up against the wall near the entrance to the cave.

“Shut up. I don’t care if Aizen or anyone else wants somethin’ to do with you, they can’t have you. You’re _mine_ , and if nobody else can see this I’m just gonna have to make that obvious.” Striking out and grabbing a fistful of pink hair, he tugged his mate’s head to the side, exposing his neck and biting down hard and fast enough that jagged fangs sliced past his hierro with barely any resistance.

The smaller Arrancar hissed in pain before relaxing again, which prompted another deep bite into the other side of his neck. Nnoitora hadn’t bothered to mark him so visibly in quite some time, and he supposed he could get used to this. He relaxed a bit, feeling the tips of his mate’s claws slice through the fabric of his lab coat and onto the skin underneath, gently scraping at his partner, digging deeper and deeper as Szayel let himself relax and simply let desire take him as well. His mate wouldn’t be harmed by tearing off and swallowing bits of flesh, the scientist had made sure of that, but the fear and thrill of knowing there was still an extreme level of trust involved just let him sink further into complete and total infatuation. _I’ve done it again. I’ve achieved perfection. The perfect scientist and his perfect specimen, incapable of being separated by any force on any plane of being._

He had almost forgotten to keep track of his “experiment” with how busy things had gotten, the Quinto’s new levels of intimacy making most work exceedingly difficult. “Training” was easy enough, Szayel had taken into account that his partner would be eager to show off due to being artificially locked into courting behaviors, but actually getting up and away long enough to write down the results proved to be a lot harder--and a lot less tolerable over time--than he had expected. They had come up with ways to work around it, and for the weaker of the two Espada, reciprocate appropriately while still being able to function mentally but it did get trying at times. Once or twice Szayel had even been tempted to try his “miracle drug” himself just to let go for awhile more deeply than usual.

He opted instead for slowly tapering off the serum to an even level, rather than gradually increasing it further, as it seemed that past a certain point the positive effects were overwhelmed by an excess of negative ones. In the weeks since Szayel’s singular visit with Aizen, his mate had begun acting exceedingly strange, always keeping the Octava at arms’ length or randomly biting off entire fingers if he had the chance, and even going so far as to force their Fracciones to keep from coming within a certain distance of their dwelling. Thankfully, the lab notes _not_ meant for Aizen had indicated the optimal dosage at which the positive effects were present but not too much to bear. It would take awhile to bring it back down without notice, however.

Things seemed to be going smoothly in the weeks after the change, at least in outward apperances. It was extremely unusual for Nnoitora to remain gone so long these days, however, and that immediately aroused the Octava’s suspicions. He would go out and hunt for fun or if he was hungry, but he would predictably get bored in a matter of hours and return home on an average day. Szayel needed to make a quick trip to his lab anyhow, Aizen was actually expecting results after all, and he figured he had simply misjudged his mate’s behavior before he had left earlier and was letting paranoia creep back in where it didn’t belong.

He didn’t even notice his mate standing in the doorway as he was leafing through his current reports, literally bumping into him at the lab entrance.

“Yo. So you’ve been drugging me, huh? Fucking with my mind without telling me?”

Szayel couldn’t let panic seep in just yet. There was still every chance to amend the situation, assure his mate that there had been a confusion and maybe the new strength-enhancing compound had unforeseen side effects in higher doses, or had somehow reacted badly in a way neither of them had really noticed.

“Of course not, I’ve been giving you the modified strength serum that you said was working just fine, simply more than usual in growing intervals as we agreed,” he said coolly, trying to work his way around the taller Arrancar, who hadn’t moved an inch in the doorway.

“Then what the hell is this?” A small glass bottle was now held just barely before his face, but still far enough away that he could make out the wording on the label. It was harder to keep the panic at bay now, there was no way this could be happening. His plan was foolproof! He had made sure of that!

“I was using that for another research project, I must have misplaced it the other day. There’s no need to assume such things, Nnoitora, jumping to conclusions won’t get us anywhere.”

“I know where you keep all the stuff you use on me, there’s this bin in one of the lab cupboards with my fucking name on it, Szayel. Quit playing dumb with me and tell me what the hell you were doing with this!” Extra limbs materialized instantaneously, grabbing the scientist and slamming him into the wall just outside the door in the hallway.

“I told you, it got misplaced! Now please, put me down so I can put it back!”

“You know I can fucking read. Every last thing on this label is something that’s been going on with me since you started me on this fake-ass training routine, did you really think I wouldn’t catch on to this cheap trick of yours?” Claws tightened around his throat, and he desperately tried to pry them off despite knowing he was physically no match for his mate. Actually including the strength-enhancing compound was a mistake, he realized now, because without it he may have been able to make a break for it if he got lucky. Struggling wildly and choking for air now, there wasn’t a chance of escape. His thoughts were scrambled, too mismatched and chaotic to pick out enough words to beg for mercy or claim it was a mistake that the mind-altering drug even made its way into the serum. It would be pathetic, weak, and possibly brand him as even more of a target, but at least he might survive if he could manage.

“Please, I… give me that… stop…”

“Huh. Didn’t expect you to keep trying like this. You’re really pissin’ me off, and I shouldn’t be the only one to have to suffer from all that. Wonder what happens if you take all of this stuff at once. You said to give it to you, yeah?” he snarled and ripped the cap off the bottle with his fangs, loosening his grip just enough to let the frantic Octava take a few ragged breaths before shoving the open end between his teeth. “You’d better not waste a damn drop of this, but I think you know better than to try.” He placed a fourth hand under the smaller Espada’s jaw and forced his head back, clamping down to make sure he didn’t attempt to let the solution leak out from the corners of his mouth.

It took quite a bit to get a Hollow to show genuine fear, but every time Nnoitora managed to elicit such an emotion from someone, it was just exciting as the first time. Szayel was trembling in his grip, frantically trying to knock the nearly-empty bottle from his mouth while choking and sputtering weakly, desperately making repeated failed attempts to keep as much of the drug out of his system as possible.

He couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He was already feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac spreading into his mind and body, a desperate sense of attachment and desire clouding his thoughts and actions. He swallowed the remainder, coughing and gagging on the drops that didn’t quite go down right, and went completely limp. Processing it out of his system would take too much time and conscious effort, and the desire to do so was slowly slipping from his mind anyhow.

“Took you fucking long enough, I thought it’d be easier than that. I know how much you just _love_ experimenting on yourself!” The Quinto’s words peaked in a roar as he hurled his partner through the doorway of the lab, smashing into one of the cabinets and spilling bottles and broken shards of glass from the impact. The scientist fell forward, almost in slow motion, before the black-haired Arrancar rushed out at him and knocked him sideways into another wall. Sensations and emotions became more and more blurred as the massive dose of concentrated mating hormones and strength serum coursed its way through his body. He tried to steady himself but his willpower and legs gave out under him, a dense haze of pain and thoughts struggling to mask each other as he slid onto the floor of the lab.

“Oh, come on, you’re even more pathetic than I thought you were. I’m not done with you yet. Not even close.” Nnoitora grabbed a small case of surgical tools that had been flung from the shattered cabinet, making his way over to where Szayel was still struggling to sit upright against the wall in a manner that was almost deliberately agonizing to the weaker Arrancar’s enhanced senses.

His long black hair fell around the scientist as he loomed over the former object of his affections, laughing roughly and tearing off what remained of his bloodstained lab coat. The wounds from the glass cabinet shards had already healed themselves, leaving barely perceptible scars in their place. “Damn, even with all that shit I gave you, you’re still regenerating this fast?” Claws sliced their way back through, the Octava squirming and wincing with pain and arousal as the gashes were pried back open.

“This is boring. After all that trouble you caused me, I think I should get to turn it back on you, yeah? It’s about time I got to be the one to use your fancy medical tools.” The first incision into his shoulder was far too deep. Szayel’s first brief flare of instinct was to poke fun at his mate for being so careless before another short, deep cut sent fear coursing through his body.

“Stop, stop, you’re… pressing too hard, you don’t need that much force-”

“You can shut the fuck up. I know exactly what I’m doing and I can’t wait to see you with your guts falling out,” he hissed, clasping his hand around the pink-haired Espada’s neck again, keeping his head pinned to the ground as he dug around in the toolkit for something else to play with, continuing to make small cuts almost absentmindedly and laughing bitterly at every resulting pained noise the scientist made. “All this stuff is just as boring as you are, figures. Scissors? These little clamp things? These won’t do me any fucking good!”

The Octava inhaled sharply, attempting to gather his thoughts and make a retort about how they weren’t exactly meant for what his superior intended. Everything hurt, everything felt too _good_ , and under the influence of the drugs he’d been given he felt as though this was normal. He wasn’t quite used to anything _this_ rough, but it seemed well within the bounds of what his partner might want if given the chance. Another sharp pain shot up his left arm, not the scalpel this time as it was too blunt and dug into the bone underneath hard enough to briefly snap him from his fantasy and see what he had just been so roughly stabbed with. A small pair of surgical scissors were sticking out at an odd angle from his upper arm, black blood pooling up from underneath.

“Y-you’re not supposed to use them like that,” he huffed weakly, voice trembling from his severely compromised state.

“I’m not stupid. I know that’s not what you’re supposed to do with ‘em, and you’re not supposed to do _this,_ either!” A sharp crack echoed through the lab followed by an unearthly agonized wail as Nnoitora drove the end of the scissors in deeper, finding their way through solid bone almost too easily.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that?”

Szayel stared unblinkingly at the ceiling of the lab, frozen in shock and unable to respond.

“Of course you don’t. Fuckin’ serves you right for what you did to me.”

He picked up the scalpel again, shifting his position and pinning the Octava’s legs beneath him, eyeing the exposed skin of the scientist’s chest and stomach and the still-healing cuts from the previous assaults. Not so long ago he would have considered it somewhat of a shame to see who he considered then to be his mate like this, weak and exposed and completely incapacitated by some weird drug. Might have even made jokes about it. Disgust and rage had pushed away any other lingering feelings he might have had for Szayel, and drove the thin blade into the skin just below his left ribcage, slicing downwards almost parallel to the curve of the bone.

“Stop, please, stop this…” the weak, pained cries of the smaller Espada weren’t as satisfying as he had imagined.

“You can shut the fuck up or I’ll cut your tongue out, too. You never needed it anyhow, nobody wanted to hear what you had to say,” Nnoitora snarled, clamping his hand down tighter around Szayel’s throat before returning to his work and making a rougher, deeper cut on the unmarred side of his abdomen.

Between the pain, the drugs, and the lack of air, Szayel found himself slowly losing consciousness before the familiar sting of claws against his cheek drew him back.

“Oh, hell no, you’re not passing out on me yet. I’m not even close to done and you’re gonna be present for every damn agonizing second of this.”

Before now it had been easy to convince himself, over and over in the haze of endorphins and mating responses that this was simply Nnoitora being overly aggressive, yet still not seriously intent on hurting him. But the brief moments of clarity he found were met with cold glares and bared fangs, hissing and snarling with an inflection Szayel had only ever seen aimed at those his mate felt were weaker and deserving of punishment. This wasn’t the occasional giving in to mild provocation, this was pure primal fury and he was terrified.

“I see that look in your eyes. You get it now, huh? I’m fuckin’ _pissed_ , Szayel. And the more scared you get the more fun I’ll have tearing your insides out.” He dug his claws into the gashes he’d made previously, slipping them under the skin and pulling downwards, tearing it away bit by bit from the muscle underneath. Szayel felt himself slipping again, completely unaware of the piercing cries he was making, everything lost in pain and fear and lingering desire and Nnoitora’s bitter laughter ringing in his ears.

“Wh...what are you going to do with me…?” His voice was cracking now, weak with fear and loss of sensation, the world moving in and out of focus.

“I’m gonna tear your guts out, dumbass. Gonna watch you writhe in pain as you bleed out on the fucking ground like the insignificant worm you are.” A single tug ripped clean through the smaller Arrancar’s stomach, halfway exposing everything underneath. Nnoitora lifted his blackened, bloodstained fingers to his lips before pulling his hand away, laughing sharply at his own stupidity.

“Nah, if I eat you now I’ll just get a mouthful of that nasty shit I fed you earlier and that’d just ruin the mood! You’re not even gonna get the satisfaction of knowing you became useful!” Claws plunged back into Szayel’s organs, digging and scraping around and tugging at anything they managed to snag on. He couldn’t stay conscious now, or at least not aware and in focus. Bits and pieces were being dragged out, slowly and painfully, every movement forcing him further and further away from reality while somehow staying in sharp contrast, echoing endlessly in the encroaching void.

“I didn’t want this.”

“Did you fucking say something? I didn’t say you could talk, did I?” Nnoitora forced all his weight and hatred into his movements, crushing bone and tearing guts and slashing skin, howling and snarling wildly before finally collapsing from exhaustion.

“I never fuckin’ wanted this either, but I guess you just kinda get used to despair after awhile.”

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, my longest finished work. Ever. I thought it was only gonna be about 4000 words and then my hand and the plot slipped. Sorry it's in a mostly-dead fandom with a ship that's not exactly most people's top priority. I'm pretty proud of it though, it started as a shitty maladaptive daydream that sounded like a hopefully-less-shitty fanfiction premise. It took me several months of on-and-off writing (most of which were done not sober and very sleep-deprived, I work my best that way and fuck the consequences) but here it is. The Magic Hollow Fuck Drug fic because that working title was too good NOT to share with everyone. Also to be completely honest I'm not really part of the Bleach fandom, I just like these two assholes too much for my own good. Three if you count the plot-relevant mentions of Grimmjow. Also pretentious title is pretentious idk it just needed a real one.


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